


Popping Candy

by babblingtypewriter



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F.O.E. - started out as a coincidence, F/M, Laser eyes, New York City, Slow Burn, a crash and burn of a first impression, but not any more!, maybe they don't, maybe they heal the hairline cracks in eachothers souls, or at least rey wishes she had laser eyes, soul mates found in suprising places
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-27 18:06:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14431191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babblingtypewriter/pseuds/babblingtypewriter
Summary: Tall, brooding, and with a coffee order as bitter as his soul.Rey really has no idea how the fuck any of this happened.





	1. Latte Art

**Author's Note:**

> Hello internet.
> 
> ...hope you enjoy this story. 
> 
> ...
> 
> I'm not very good at breaking the perverbial ice (always think that word means something dirter then it does), so I'll leave you free to- hopefully- enjoy some of the words I've scribbled on this page. 
> 
> It's not beta'd so please ignore and forgive any splling mistakes. They're all my glorious fault :)
> 
> Hope you're having a good day/night/cult gathering/whatever it is you are doing as you read this.
> 
> Thanks for reading :) x

It’s still raining. The water dropping in time with the slamming down of to-go coffee cups and drizzling of caramel syrup across two lattes.

With a twist of her feet Rey dings the bell and a pair of scarlet painted nails grabs the order with a grateful grin.

“Enjoy the rest of your day!” Rey beams with a smile. Twisting back, she allows herself a moment to release a tired breath, before reaching down and twisting the order sheet towards her. Eyebrows creasing as she tries to decipher Finn’s doodles.

“Hey peanut.” Finn greets slipping through from the back kitchen, his bookbag clasped in one hand as he shrugs on his favourite leather jacket.

“Hey yourself. Mind deciphering these hieroglyphics for me? You know, before you abandon me to defend for myself against the morning rush.” She teases, eyes narrowing and brows arching.

Finn clicks his tongue in response, leaning against the counter casually to mirror her stance.

“Since you asked so nicely, yes I can. And also, low blow with the knife twisting.” He argues, clutching at his heart jokingly. "You know Poe and I organised this apartment viewing weeks ago, and that you offered to cover my shift because you are the greatest friend in the world.”

“That, and because you offered me two packets of chocolate HobNobs and a giant Toblerone as payment.”

“Also that... have I mentioned today that I love you?”

“Several guilt ridden times but I could hear it again.” Rey goades with a laugh, her lips softening into a light smile.  
“I’m glad you guys have found a place to look into.”

“Thanks Rey.” He murmurs, releasing a warm breath out his nose, and smiling a big goofy grin. His fingers subconsciously fiddle with the worn leather bracelet hanging from his wrist and Rey smiles as she thinks back to the night Poe gave it to him. 

She must have been lost in thought for awhile because Finn suddenly sticks his finger in her ear and Rey jumps about three feet in the air, her face wrinkling and squeezing as if she'd just downed a whole jar of sherbet lemons. She pulls away with a loud grunt and plants a deep horse bite on his arm.

“Ow!” He howls, giving her a childish scowl to try and cover his glee. “How could you? We were having a moment.”

“You’re such a twat.”

 _“Oh, you are such a twat.”_ He quips back at her in a poor mans attempt at an english accent. His pinky sticking out and fingers curling around an imaginary tea cup.

“Just because you don’t have any class.” Rey shoots back at him smugly. He just wiggles his eyebrows at her cheesily and she tries and fails not to laugh, her stiff visage melting.

“There she is.” He nods pinching her cheek lovingly. “When I walked in earlier you looked like you’d just lost a kidney.”

“Late night.” She admits shurgging off his fingers and wiping a long hand down her face. She can feel Finn staring holes into the side of her face as he waits for her to go on but Rey doesn't give in, instead choosing to fiddle with a loose screw poking out the back of the coffee machine. Her eyes intently focused on watching the piece of metal spin with each flick of her finger and hoping that if she lets the subject drop and fizzle out between them, that they won't find themselves stuck in another argument about it. Finn must be feeling the same way because he doesn’t push it for the first time in a long time. Instead he extends an olive branch by changing the topic to more neutral ground. Food. In particular, deep fried food - Rey’s favourite word combination.

“I’ve left you half my breakfast burrito in the microwave. Extra chorizo with lots of stringy cheese. I know I don’t have have to worry about coming back and finding it still there.”

As if summoned, Rey’s stomach gives a loud, deep gurgle of approval. Patting her stomach loving she strokes her cinnamon sprinkled apron in a downward motion, similar to how one would try and tame a wild stray.

“She has risen. Thank you for taming the beast.”

“We both know what happens if you don't get your daily dose of grease.” Finn says pretending to suppress a shiver. 

"I'm not that bad!" Rey exclaims defensively giving him a half hearted shove. 

"Tell that to the poor guy working the drivethru at Brody's Diner I think he gets his stitches out next we-

"That was _one_ time and I did not hit him I just gave him a piece of my - 

"- ek I mean you grow like twelve inches taller when you're mad - 

"he was _too_ _slow_ and he was being a complete arsehole...you even agreed with me!"

"seriously what do they put in the water over where you're from? That's some Popeye type shit."

They both break into fits of laughter when Finn's dig trails off, Rey's shoulders finally softening as the familiar atmopshere lulls them into dropping their guards. All the tension from before dissipating as they fall back into their natural rhythm of verbal sparring and goofing around.

Finn slips his hand under the counter and pulls out the spare pencil hidden there, sliding the form over and underlining the coffee orders.

“Two flat whites, one macchiato, and a mint chocolate frappe. First to stay, the last two to-go.”

“Thank you muchly.” Rey thanks with a big grin and meaningful turn of her cheeks. “Now go or you’ll be late!” She exclaims, shoving him towards the door with a push. “Send my love to that _debonair_ pilot of yours.”

“Are you guys _really_ still facing off on that online scrabble thing?” He asks with a pained turn of his lips, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

“ _Oh yes we are_ , and tell your boyfriend that I’m getting that triple word score when I take my break! He’d better be ready to have his arse handed to him.” She warns with a smooth smile, sliding to the side to froth up some milk. She gives Finn a wave as he walks out the door with a mock salute and bow, the bell ringing out his departure.

Outside, the ‘Maz’s Midnight Express’ sign buzzes in scrawled neon lights against the pelting rain. The ‘E’ of the express fuzzing in and out with a harsh fizzing sound, like dripping water on one of those electric fly zappers.

Rey chuckles to herself as she thinks back on the number of times Finn’s urged Maz to get it fixed. But Maz doesn't budge so much as an inch. Always sticking to the argument that it’s as much a part of the place now as the spider (they’ve since crowned Murray) living in the upstairs toilet. That always manages to shut Finn up somehow.

Maz comes in twenty minutes later, sliding through the swinging side doors and dumping her gym bag on the counter.

Rey offers her a smile, fingers turning the page of the physics textbook she’d propped up against a couple of boxes of tea.

“Morning Maz.”

“Morning Rey. How’s it been?” She warmly greets, taking off her big octagon shaped spectacles and drying the wet lenses on her shirt. Sliding them back on her face, her dark brown eyes take in the customers scattered across the room. The window seats are taken up by a large group of students; half eaten plates of apple pie and large mugs of black coffee are wedged between heavy textbooks and open tipped highlighters.

A few other locals are seated on the plush peach coloured couch in the corner nook, cradling cups of tea to their chests and engaging in conversation. Maz offers them a wave which they return with vigour.

“The morning was good, we’ve hit a nice lull for now. I made you some porridge, it’s just sitting, cooling, on the side bench in the kitchen. I can hold the fort here until you’re done.” Rey assures with a smile, folding the page of her textbook before flicking it shut and sliding it to the side.

“Thank you, you are a gem. Remind me to give you a raise when we start making some real money round here, yes?” She teases in her south african drench tones, giving her a warm wink as she opens the door to the kitchen with her back, “Glad to see you finally have your nose in some books.”

Rey sticks her tongue out childishly at the dig which makes Maz cackle as she slips out back.

She turns back to slip her book under the counter and lets Maz’s warm laugh press against her heart; her dimples popping out by her cheeks as she fights the grin that spreads across her face.

Maz was Rey’s home. The first real home she’s ever had. She vividly remembers the first time she stepped through those doors, lining up on the other side of this very counter as a fresh faced junior in highschool. Rose had dragged her along to check out the place as a potential study nook for their end of year exams. Claiming that the coffee was ‘brewed by the gods’, and that the sofas were like lying on a bag of the _“gooiest marshmallows you’ve ever eaten...in a good way”._

Allowing herself to be seduced by that small piece of prose, Rey had relented. As she often did whenever Rose had her mind passionately set on something. So they’d caught the ferry over to Governors Island that same weekend. It was the first time she’d ever stepped foot on the island having only ever catching the odd glimpse at it from back in the city. A tiny town nestled on that spit of land that just seemed to float aimlessly out in New York’s Harbour. She knew it was a popular spot for tourists and the odd family day outing, but knows she never would have bothered making the trip out herself if it hadn’t been for Rose. Just another thing she has to be thankful to her for.

She’d bounded up to the counter at the Midnight Express, the bottom of her Guns ‘N’ Roses t-shirt drenched in engine grease from an early morning at the shop; and ordered herself a piping hot green tea drizzled with honey.

Maz had looked up as she spoke her order, taking in her t-shirt and mismatched zebra and leopard print socks with a sparkle in her eye. _“oh sweet child of mine”_ she’d murmured with a grin, taking a beat, steam blowing past her face as she heated the water for the tea, _“You don’t happen to know anything about sink pipes, do you?”_ She’d asked with a tilt of her head, magnified eyes flicking over her face curiously.

_“Uh...sure.”_

And so with a twist, bang and screech, Rey fixed the sink. Maz offered her the drink on the house. And...that was that, she just never really left.

Meeting Finn had just been the icing on the cake, he'd memorised her order by the second trip. It only took a beat after the exchange of _“Hi”_ , and _“Can I take your order?”_ for them to realise they would be stuck with each other for the rest of their lives. Finding themselves emerged in a passionate debate about Indiana Jones not two minutes later, after Rey noticed his vintage fedora hanging on the coat rack. Neither one being able to definitively rank the films in the trilogy without their nerves fraying and mouths sputtering. But both wholeheartedly ready to proclaim Raiders of the Lost Ark as one of the greatest pieces of cinema ever made.

Meeting someone who worshipped at the altar of George Lucas as much as Rey herself did was a very life affirming thing. They would spend many a future nights together watching movies, picking popcorn out of the slots in Finn’s couch and munching.

That summer Rey found herself parting with a substantial chunk of her wages trying to cover the trips over there. It was a bloody long way from Brooklyn. But she didn’t mind. She’d happily scrub the smell of petrol out of concrete until her fingers shrivelled up like prunes if it meant she could hear another one of Maz’s goofy jokes, or watch Finn balance teaspoons on his face like a seal.

Luckily everything became much easier once Rey turned eighteen. Finally eligible and viewed, legally, in the eyes of society as an adult. It meant that she was finally free to leave the foster system - and by extension, Unkar’s _care_.

Maz had welcomed her into her family with open arms. Offering her a part time position at the cafe, and even going as far as to get her an extra key cut to the apartment complex upstairs.

But Maz’s big heart, and iron clad will, meant that paying rent can be an increasingly difficult thing to do at times. But Rey, never being one to back down from a challenge, still manages to find new and creative ways of sneaking the odd payment into Maz’s bag from time to time. Despite it always ending with the same confrontation when she stumbles upon it the next day; Maz's face turning at least thirty different shades of red as she vents her frustration. But that’s half the charm of their relationship. It’s strong. Steadfast.

Mothering.

It’s hard to believe that they’d only been in eachothers lives for three years. And it had been the most stable and important three years of Rey’s life. She’d made a family. A home. And it means everything.

It made her feel safe enough to start working towards her future, to finally lay down some roots. Making the decision to progress to college at NYU with Rose two years ago, both of them working towards engineering degrees.

Rose herself recently having made the sound decision to narrow down her major to focus solely on computer engineering, a respectable and challenging feat in and of itself. But Rose being, well, Rose - and always harbouring the need to stick her fingers in multiple pies at once- has also chosen this exact moment in her life to begin, the stressful and neuron frying process, of developing her own illustrating software. Just to have something else on the side to drive her crazy when her full blown degree isn't busy doing that for her. The dream is to market the demo model to the ‘financially starved art majors of our generation’, the poor souls scattered across the bustling streets of this colourful and electric city. Once properly tested and the appropriate feedback returned, filtered through, and correct adaptions made. She’ll prepare it for commercial release and then unleash it upon the world.

 _“Once I take my rightful place as one of the greatest entrepreneur of our generation, I’ll pick you up in my private jet, we’ll run away to Paris and live out our dream of drowning ourselves in carbohydrates and red wine.”_ She’ll joke with her mouth half curled around a cream stuffed donut. Rey has no doubt that she’ll do it. Rose Tico can do anything when she sets her mind to it.

Rey herself, however, has yet to narrow down her chosen field of study; much to the vexation and disapproval of her tutors.

However exams are coming up in a few months time, and with that added fuel helping to kick her ass into gear, hopefully her future will be made clearer. When you don’t know, fail until the path appears. Ghandi said that right? No? Probably not. Anyway.

She still works at Unkar’s Roaring Automobiles fixing and patching up well and pre-loved cars, along with the odd scraps of junk Unkar brings in from the dump to fix up and sell at full rate. The most important difference now is that now it's her choice. The work is on her terms, the money she makes going where she decides it will go. Unlike before when Unkar’s grotty plump fingers would take cuts to cover her “rent” as he had so eloquently liked to call it back then. His rotten teeth gleaming at her through one of his sleazy smiles.

But she doesn’t owe him anything anymore.  

In fact, he had been the one to broach the deal with her first. Realising, of course, that over the years he had come to heavily (though that’s not the endearment he’d used) rely on her when it came to running the business. All of his customers accustomed to knowing and dealing with Rey by name. Unkar didn’t exactly have the right touch when it came to the customer service aspect of the job.

And so a few weeks after she’d left without so much as a backward glance, he’d grudgingly approached her with an offer of a seventy - thirty split of the profits. Although definitely weighed in Unkar's favour, it was a definite step up from the zero point two one percent she was getting previously.

Finn, however, wasn't happy with the thought of her going back there to work for the oily greaseball. He’d told her to stick to her guns, tell Unkar where he could shove his offer, and to, like Indiana, know when to run from the big rolling boulder. But Finn didn't know the shop like she did. Didn't understand the place it held in her heart. Because despite the fact the fact it had never been a home, never been her home. It had been a shelter. It had provided her an opportunity to escape reality, allowed her to channel all of her frustrations into something constructive. It had shaped her and ultimately made her stronger. And she felt ready to take responsibility for that now, she felt it could be something really great one day.

Besides Unkar was hardly ever there anyway, and on those days Rey could dream that she owned the place. And it was a good dream.

So she’d accepted... with the proviso that there was a back door clause built into the contract she insisted was drawn up, so she could leave when she was ready to. With Unkar it was all about the balance of power. She has never taken that for granted with him. And to Unkar’s credit he did have one drawn up. No matter how slimey it turned out to be.

She'd asked Maz look it over it with her and she then called in a favour with an old friend known only and endearingly as ‘the hacker’ to take a scan over it. And with Unkar being Unkar, that had come in handy when dealing with all the legal jargon he’d tried to throw her way. But, after several re-edits and a few civil discussions, an agreement was laid out and agreed upon. And that’s how she ended up working there Mondays through to Thursdays, afternoons and evenings, every week like clockwork.

And Rey will admit, at times it can be hard to balance it all along with her studies at NYU, near impossible if she was being honest with herself. But it is one of the only ways she can afford to live and study in New York. And so she makes it work.

Miraculously, later on down the track, she managed to convince her mechanics lecturer to transfer the work she did at the shop directly into credits for her papers. On one of the many stressful and soul crushing evenings she’d arrived home from the shop at 10:30pm to find a blank word document, where a 5,000 word essay should be, staring mockingly back at her. She was struck by a, slightly alcohol induced, stroke of genius. Which promptly lead to her arriving to her lecture the next day armed with a sales pitch complied of a PowerPoint presentation and a cardboard pop up presentation made out of leftover Cap’n’ Crunch cereal boxes (Rose’s poison of choice for the midterm blues). All of which showcased how the practical work she was doing for Unkar streamlined right into the framework of her degree.

To this day Rey still isn’t sure if her success at convincing him was based solely on the merit of, what she felt was, a thorough researched and excellently presented pitch. Or if it was because he too, like Rose, was partial to a nice bowl of Cap’n’ crunch to chase away the Monday blues; or if, all in all, he actually just found her a bit mad and slightly feared for his safety. 

But in any case, whatever it was, it had caused a small smile of respect to flick across his face, and that was all she needed.

And so Rey returned to her and Rose’s shoebox apartment in Brooklyn feeling confident that maybe, just maybe she could do this.

Thusly Rey stays in Brooklyn with Rose on the nights of Monday through to Thursday. Friday is her timetabled day off from NYU, which she efficiently spends sleeping and drooling on their couch until Rose comes home from her last lecture. They’ll have an early dinner at around 4:30, usually consisting of a split packet of two minute noodles and leftover chinese take out, after which Rey says her goodbyes and takes the ferry back to Governors just in time to pick up the evening shift at Maz's. Where she’ll work and stay until she finishes her Sunday shift in the early evening before heading back to Brooklyn. 

After which the whole cycle starts again.

Not too shabby.

After all Rose and Rey had always wanted to live together. Ever since they met that very first day of highschool, both with their stomachs nervously lodged in their throats, and uttered _red wines_ at the same time in a German accent when someone offered them one of the red vines from their lunchbox. And the nerves had just flown away like gold dust, and all that was left was bubbling glee. Because as she sneaked a peek at Rose’s equally mad grin, and saw the happiness glinting in her eyes, she understood that that is what friendship is. What love is.

And Rey didn’t have another gold dust moment like that until she met Finn. They’d spent their time together humming to John Williams theme tunes in a plethora of different accents, she’s still impartial to their Russian rendition to this day. And yeah, while her life was a bit far off from the conventional domestic bliss that she and Rose had envisioned when they planned to live together back in highschool; it was, and still is, one of the most important parts of Rey’s life. Because Rose is her person. And she feels lucky that she has a best friend who understands and accepts the weird life she leads.

Because it was weird. Really fucking weird, all of it much messier and harder than it should be. But it was hers, and Rey has solem had much in her life that was truly hers. So whenever those thoughts spring up, or things started to feel a bit too much. Rey will take the time to step back and remind herself of the future she’s working towards. Because this had all became a necessary evil now. Because there is simply nowhere else- especially not in new york- where she would have the same kind of access to all the tools, resources, and knowledge that she needs in order to keep developing her skills in this way. I'm mean, where else would she be challenged the way she is when Unkar wheels in one of his little projects? With their engines rusted over and hanging on within an inch of their lives, carburettors chargrilled like Maz’s infamous barbecued chicken wings. Nowhere else would be mad or unethical enough to ask that of anyone. Least of all of an engineering undergraduate who hasn’t even committed to a field of study yet. And so she owed that shitty, cramped car shed nestled between _Johnny’s Vexing Vinyls_ and _Betty's Bulging Beats_ in one of Brooklyn’s dodgiest back alleys, a lot. The experience it’s given her to put on opportunities like the internship application she’s planning on submitting to First Order Electronics, or F.O.E. as it’s more widely referred to, is _invaluable_.

Because there is no way, in any of the parallel universes Finn tries to convince her are operating right at this moment, that she would even put herself within breathing distance of an opportunity like that otherwise. F.O.E is known throughout the word as the most fast thinking, advanced high tech company since Apple stole the scene back in 2008 with the touch screen. It is the Elvis Presley of companies.

And Rey’s dream was to work there. One day.

_Hopefully._

So with a soft smile Rey has one last fiddle with the threads in her jumper, an old Christmas present from Finn, poking her thumbs in and around the small holes in the sleeve. She brings herself to reality with a shake of her head, rolls up her sleeves, and gets to work on a medium soy americano.

It’s at that key point that he walks in.

The bell jingles, and well buffed business shoes click against the tiles. A tall figure hunches through the door, water whooshing against the frame as it bursts shut with a resounding slam. Flicking wet hair out of his eyes with a stiff shake of his head, he glances around the cafe with a twist of his jaw. His hands are dug deeply into the damp fabric of his pockets, drops of rain sliding down his shoulders and onto the floor.

He dodges the hanging fairy lights in the middle of the room with a grunt under his breath.

Rey fights to stifle a laugh, resisting the tingle that pulls at the corners of her mouth. From where she’s standing he looks like a long piece of spaghetti trying to manoeuvre its way across a dance floor.

Taking a moment to observe him, she finds herself paying heavy attention to the suit. Even from this far away, Rey can guess that the fabric is expensive. The black material thick and meticulously kept. Gold cufflinks holding the fabric tight around his wrists. He’s not the kind of customer that the Midnight Express usually attracts. And Rey finds that she, oddly, instantly likes him for that exact reason.

Reaching over she slaps a lid on a to-go cup and offers the americano to a uni student with a smile.

By the time she looks back he’s already standing by the till. His posture the very picture of control. Shoulders square and spine ramrod straight, his legs the only part of him hanging looser than the rest. His head is turned down as he reads the drinks menu sellotaped to the counter.

Rey takes the opportunity to study him more closely and it's then that she notices just how, very slightly, out of place he actually looks in his suit. The stiff fabric not acclimatizing to the broad hunch in his shoulders or natural curve in his spine. Wild, dark hair falls just before his shoulders. His soft mouth with it’s...endearingly, she decided, crooked upturn. A few deep brown sun kisses trail down his neck, a strong nose bringing his whole face together.

It was a warm face. Much to the displeasure of its owner.

A handsome one, Rey thinks - 

_No - nope - none of that Niima._

Air passes through his lips as his tongue points to wrap itself around his order. “Two coffees. One hazelnut latte with whipped cream. One cup black filter, bitter rather than smooth.” He finishes with a slight clench of his jaw; adam’s apple bobbing once, twice, as he shuffles his wet shoes awkwardly against the tiles.

“No problem. Would you like that prepared to have here, or to go?”

At her question his eyes flick up.

Two pools of deep amber pierce into hers, the shade a jolting mosaic of contradicting textures and shades. Initially it kind of reminds her of the stubborn worn coffee stains she has to try and buffer out of those damn cork coasters scattered across the room ... but suddenly she's reeled in by their weirdly sensually sticky texture that kind of looks like molasses dripping off a spoon, staring into the very depths of her soul as it drizzles onto - why is her stomach suddenly clenching unnecessarily?

Re-entering the atmsophere, Rey clears her throat and she looks down, reaching for the pen tucked into the pocket of her apron. Clicking the tip, she slides her eyes back up to meet his firmly, watching the muscle under his eye twitch as he leans back.

Seriously? His eyes are like 'worn coffee stains' - what are you fucking shakespeare Niima? GET A GRIP!

The mystery molasses man slides his hands back into his pockets stiffly, glancing not too kindly to the left then right. His eyes take in the flicking neon sign outside and side tables covered in the bare remains of cake stained plates and freshly finished coffees, his brow clenching an unimpressed clench. Seeming to catch himself his attention whips back to focus on Rey before briskly informing her,

“To go.”

And it's like someone opened a window and let the damp billowing wind slap straight her in the face. Her ears burn a deep red and her chest starts to instinctively fill with air, like a peacock fanning out its feathers as it charges to defend its offspring. She tries to calmly push down her protective tendencies to the side when she takes in how uncomfortable he looks, noticing the tired and weary creases in his face. She decides to cut him some slack.

“Coming right up.”

They fall into a silence as Rey grabs two coffee cups and places them to the side in preparation. The twisting of buttons, and clamping down of levers suddenly feels like it's taking up all the air in the room so Rey decides to try and break the ice like she does with customers from time to time and strike up a conversation. 

“So, are you here on business?” She offers casually, her eyes flicking over his face and offering him an encouraging smile, “I don’t mean to be nosy, I just don't think I've seen you roun-”

“I’d appreciate those coffees today if that’s possible” He cuts off impatiently with a sharp swipe. His tone gruff as he leans forward with a squint of his eyes to read her name tag,

“...Rey.”

And when his eyes flick up to meet hers this time it's to give her a forced, condescending smile. The kind of smile that grinds Rey's gears like nothing she’s ever known before.

Feeling anger burn deep in her chest at his arrogant, rude, _jackass-ness_ , Rey turns away quickly without hesitation. Throwing over her shoulder a tense, “No worries sir, I’ll get them to you right away.”

 _Asshole_ , she thinks to herself with a growl. Any fleeting ideas she had of pittying the guy, along with her (she now realises) deranged assessment of his physical attractiveness, fizz out like dosing a sparkler in a bucket of water. Instead she promptly continues to aggressively pull levers and press buttons, preparing the base for the hazelnut latte with a hot chest. Pouring essence into the hot cream and combining it with the coffee.

_Breathe, don't say anything, he's not worth it...remember what Maz said...the customer is always right...the customer is always **right.**_

Blood boils in her ears as she tries to focus on making the filter coffee, dissolving three heaped tablespoons into hot water, watching the bubbles swirling around the top as she furiously stirs. 

_Except he is **wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong**_

Rey calmly leaves it to brew, fighting the urge to sneak a peek back at fucky mc’fuck face. Not her most original, Rose can attest to that, but screw it it’s true. She bites back a groan when it suddenly hits her that she’s going to have to hand whip the cream for the latte, remembering that they’d run out of the canned stuff earlier this morning. Thanks universe, really appreciate it.

She can practically feel his eyes drilling impatient holes into the back of her head. Her knuckles burn white as she works the cream around the whisk. She knows now that she should have taken Finn up on his offer to teach her how to do coffee art. She wishes more than anything that she could carve a big fat middle finger into the foam of his stupid, lousy latte. One thing's for sure, she’s definitely getting him to teach her when he comes in for his shift tonight. Just in case satan decides to make an unwelcome reappearance. She’ll have to remember to lay some salt by the entrance when she closes tonight.

He doesn’t move away from the counter. Just stands there with a impatiently patient expression on his face.

How does someone’s facial muscles even do that? Rey hisses to herself frustratedly.

Later on she’ll describe the whole encounter to Rose as equivalent to that sensation you get when you open that special bar of chocolate - you know, the one you've been looking forward to consuming all day - only to find that when you finally do open it the flesh inside has melted, and all your left with is the goo sliding down your hands as you try and, gracefully as possible, ice the contents onto your tongue. And that in fact, when you do finally taste it the popping candy mixture doesn't actually spark in your mouth the way it's supposed to, but rather stutters out in an unremarkable heap and dies on your tastebuds.

Delicious, yes. But all in all just disappointing.

When the hiss of frothing milk, and suction of lids squeezing onto cup rims being the only thing filling the tense silence suddenly becomes too much. Rey finally slaps the coffees up onto the counter.

Mr _the bold and the brooding_ , releases a gust of air as if to say _finally_.

His hands faltering mid-reach when his eyes catching onto something scribbled on the side of one of the cups, angling it up so he can read it properly.

 _Broody Asshole_ was scrawled, with excellent penmanship, on the cup containing the filter coffee.

Just a guess on Rey's part. Black and bitter, _like his soul,_ she thinks to herself with a devilish grin. And if the slight upturn of his mouth and quirk of his brow is anything to go by, she thinks she's hit the nail on the head.

Rey then spends the next ten seconds pretending she isn't mentally high fiving herself while staring at him, innocently, square in the face.

“Have a swell day.”

She grinds out between clenched, perfectly smiley, teeth.

He simply looks up at her, coffees held still by his sides in a stance of almost disbelief. Her comment jolts him back to reality, goads a deep breath to pass through his red, slightly flared, nostrils. He takes one last sweep of her face with his stupid eyes before turning on his heel and leaving the cafe.

And the last thing Rey thinks when the resounding slam of the door echoes out is...

_What a fucker._


	2. Shakespearean Twist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off I just wanted to say a massive thank you to everyone who left kudos, comments, and bookmarked this story - I really appreciate all of you! You're the bees knees :) 
> 
> And to everyone who has come back to read chapter two (even just to read) - thank you also! And hello to anyone new - hope you decide to hop aboard this train, I can't promise cookies but I can promise to give out some virtual high fives. 
> 
> *raises hand to give virtual high five* come on guys, don't leave me hanging. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. It's a bit shorter than the last one. The first one was a bit more technical with a lot of plot to explain, and I was finding my own feet in terms of how I wanted to tell this story. 
> 
> How this chapter is structured is kind of how I plan for the rest of the story to go. So let me know what you think! x

The wafting scent of instant coffee and toasting waffles wakes Rey up from her place on the couch. Upper lip dry and fuzzy from where her mouth is latched, open and drooling, on the suede blue armrest. Her body still in the same position from when she face planted and promptly fell asleep the night before.

 

“Good morning sunshine.” Rose sings from her place in the kitchen, the sleeves of her captain america flannelette pajamas curled up around her elbows as she plonks another pair of waffles into the toaster. Her brown eyes watch amusedly as Rey wakes herself with a shake of her head and scratch behind her ears.

 

“What time is it?” She moans sleepily, swallowing a yawn and continuing to stretch her about limbs like a cat.

 

“7:00am.”

 

“You woke me up at 7:00am on a _Friday?_ Are you insane?!” Rey growls, ducking back under the cover Rose had thrown over, and releasing a deep groan.

 

“I have waffles.” Rose entices, blowing the fresh infused steam of the little puffs of deliciousness in Rey’s direction.

 

“Chocolate chip?” a muffled voice croaks from underneath the thick duvet.

 

“Picked them up just for you.”

 

Rey’s nose slowly pokes out from under the blanket, her body gradually following with the trepidation of a deer revealing itself from the foliage. Unable to resist she wraps herself in the duvet like a burrito and starts shuffling her way towards the kitchen.

 

Rose gives her an encouraging, and secretly smug, nod. Placing the plate down on the benchtop with a quiet clank, and drizzling the golden brown crusts in rich maple syrup. Rey’s nostrils flare as the sugar particles hit the back of her throat, her mouth salivating.

 

“You treat me so well.” She whispers softly through a deep moan, her toes curling and tapping along giddily in pure bliss as she stuffs a whole waffle in her mouth with her fingers.

 

“Yeah well I wouldn’t have gotten through midterms without the stash of Cap'n Crunch you left outside my door. Consider this my debt repaid.” Rose assures, tying her hair up into a messy bun with a spare rubber band she finds lying on the counter. “At least use a fork you cavewoman.” She tuts, stabbing a spare fork into the other waffle on Rey’s plate before she can hunker into it. She gives Rey a winning smile when she instinctively growls at her, begrudgingly cutting the waffle up with her fork before taking her next bite. With a puffed out chest Rose hops up to sit on the bench, her legs swinging back and forth as she tucks into a sticky waffle.

 

“This is true love.” Rey proclaims, closing her eyes and humming. Reaching across the bench she grabs the brewing pot of instant coffee that first roused her from her sleep. Pouring herself a generous helping into her favourite chipped red coffee mug. “You know,” Rose begins conversationally, observing Rey as she gulps down the liquid gold with a satisfied smack of her lips. “I find it kinda funny how you're the one with the archetypal barista job yet I can't even get you to make me so much as an instant let alone a fresh brew. I mean what is this?"

 

“Hey, I can’t help it that Mondays through to Thursdays I miraculously forget how to make coffee.” Rey defends with a lift of her hands. “Maz’s fancy machine does most of the work anyway, I’m just it’s enabler. Besides you know how much I love the coffee you make, you have the midas touch my friend.”

 

“Yeah, whatever.” Rose mutters, her tone clearly indicating that she wasn’t buying any of the bullshit Rey was selling.

 

“...I still can't believe you wrote what you said you wrote on that guys order.”

 

“What, Mr fucky mc’fuck face? Yeah well he deserved it, he was being a broody asshole.” She mutters defensively. “I told you how he was.”

 

“Yes, melted bar and all that, you told me. But you know most people would have just taken it on the chin, not turned around and told him that.”

 

“You know me, never one to disappoint.”

 

“No you certainly never do that.”

 

“Are you implying that I have an attitude problem?” Rey asks, lowering her fork to rest on her plate and crossing her arms.

 

“No there was no implying going on in that statement.”

 

“Hey, don't forget who brings home the bacon in this relationship.”

 

“Just because your weird friendship with the butcher on fifth means we get cheap off cuts, it does not mean that you automatically take higher status in our relationship. We both pay the same amount of rent.” Rose points out with an exasperated breath.

 

“Firstly, his name is Marco and I’d appreciate it if you’d showed some more respect for the man responsible for making BLT wednesdays a reality for us. And secondly, there's no need to get jealous about our friendship. Everyone knows I only have eyes for you.” Rey finishes off cheekily, offering her a big old wink. 

 

“That's not -” Rose defends frustratedly, but loses traction when all the steam blows out of her at Rey’s goading look. With a sigh she murmurs, “See this is why we don't have boyfriends, because people think we’re a lesbian couple.”

 

“No, we don't have boyfriends because we’re two women working towards engineering degrees.” Rey corrects. “You know girls with high IQs are like fly spray to men in their twenties. They want the drive through service, not the dine in service.”

 

“Why is it that the emotionally stunted man of today cannot handle a woman of substance?”  Rose asks, turning to open the freezer and pulling out a tub of Ben and Jerry's, shoving her spoon inelegantly into the creamy substance.

 

“I don't think it's just today. When you think about it they've been like that since before humankind figured out that rubbing two sticks together makes fire. If I was to bet my money, I’d say that the discovery was actually made by a woman trying to quietly burn her man’s furs after finding him shacked up in a cave with another woman.”

 

“Typical men.” Rose grunts around the spoon of ice cream in her mouth.

 

“Either that or we’re just bitter and hiding behind a derogative and sexually biased argument to deter from the fact that we’re actually the problem…”

 

…

 

“No it's definitely them” they say together, clinking their utensils in a toast. They both laugh as the dig back into their waffles.

 

“At least it's stopped raining.” Rose nods towards the window, the clouds still holding their dark colour but seeming almost too lazy to bother releasing the flood. Rey could sympathise.

“ _Don’t rain on my pa-radeeee”_ Rey dramatically belts, shaking her jazz hands and moving her body around like a lava lamp. Rose chokes on the ice cream with a snort, coughing and spluttering all over the place as she fights for air. Rey slaps her on the back with a big smile, struggling to control her laughter. Once the two have had a chance to catch their breaths, Rey pulls Rose into a hug. “Thank you for making breakfast.”

 

“That’s okay, you lazy butt.” Rose chuckles, squeezing deeper into the hug. When the two pull away, Rey sneaks a bite of Rose’s waffle as Rose turns to go into her room and change.

 

“Okay I'm going back to Bedfordshire.” Rey calls out. “Leave the dishes in the sink and I’ll make sure I do them before I go.”  

 

“Okay, but you should set an alarm so you don't miss the hand-in time for your F.O.E. apprenticeship application.” Rose calls from her bedroom, coming back into the room in a pair of jeans and baggy blouse a few minutes later.

 

“The office hand-in hours close at three, I’ve got plenty of time. Just need twenty more minutes and I’ll be fresh as a daisy.”

 

“Yeah well you sure don't smell like one.” She quips teasingly.

 

Rey just pokes her tongue out childishly and collapses on the couch. Rose rolls her eyes with a grin and grabs her backpack, heading for their apartment door with a hum. Just before she can finish turning the handle she turns back to Rey with a deep sigh.

 

“Rey...you know what you're like on a Friday. You're exhausted, just set the alarm.” She implores softly, her brow stern.

 

“It’ll be fine Rose.” Rey sleepily assures with a yawn, curling her body around her pillow like a cat and nuzzling into the marshmallow soft headrest.

 

“Fine but don't say I didn't warn you.” She relents, opening the door and picking up her keys from the bowl on the side table.

 

“Enjoy your lecture, honey.” Rey belts with much more enthusiasm.

 

“Oh shut it.” She snaps back good humouredly, shutting the door behind her with a twist of the lock.

 

Rey just laughs warmly and turns her head to snuggle deeper into the couch.

 

...

 

She doesn’t wake up again until she’s jolted to do so by a truck horn blaring outside her window at 2:23 in the afternoon.

Rubbing the sleep out of the crevices of her eyes, she claws the couch looking for her phone. Eyes squinting to take in the small numbers, her blood freezing once her brain slowly registers the gravity of what they’re showing.

 

“ _No_. No, no, no!!!” She screams, jumping up from the couch and running across the room.

 

Pushing open the door to her bedroom, she yanks open her draw and pops her feet into the legs of her jeans, pulling them up as she hops around the room to the bathroom. Squirting open the toothpaste she spreads a dollop on her finger and shoves it in her mouth; vigorously moving her finger around her teeth like a loofah as she chants _shit, shit, shit_ over and over. “Oh balls!” She curses catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Yanking her hair out of its ponytail, she runs her fingers through the tangles desperately trying to tame the knots. She was supposed to have gotten up hours ago, giving herself plenty of time to shower, brush her hair, pick some clothes. She was supposed to look presentable, professionable, hirable, all the _ables_. Well hasn’t that dream crashed and burned within the span of two minutes.  

There’s no time, she concedes to herself with a frustrated grunt. Choosing to keep her pale blue cotton sleeping shirt on she simply grabs her coat and scarf off her bedroom door. She jogs back into the lounge with determination burning deep in her bones.

Somehow managing to shrug her carpet bag on her shoulder at the same time she yanks her coat and scarf on, she bolts out their apartment door and down the flights of stairs as if her life depended on it. Rushing out the building’s front door she slings a pair of shoes onto her feet, rolling her eyes when she notices her little toe poking out from the splitting fabric of her right shoe.

 “Just what I need.” She mutters to herself, cool air gathering in a cloud of smoke around lips like she's bloody puff the magic dragon. With a shake of her head she propels herself forward into the rumbling streets, and, _of course,_ to add a Shakespearean twist to an already dazzling turn of events, the clouds choose that moment to burst open and release the brewing flood.

“Oh come _on_!” Rey splutters as ice cold water pounds onto her face, her spine jolting like a spring at the shock of it. Grumbling to herself she pulls the hood of her brown coat over her head, raindrops sliding off her nose and dribbling down her chin.

  _Bloody typical_.

Building up to a run she dashes down the street, sweat sliding down her back, goosebumps bumping along her skin, as she wades through the puddles lining the sidewalk.

Why _today_? Why? **_Why??_!**

She runs the three blocks to the corner of Brooklyn’s 8th and 9th. Giddy from the sudden rush of endorphins, she practically skips as she crosses through the morning traffic to the bus stop outside _Toni’s Pepperoni._

 Just as she slides between the last lane of cars, Rey’s heart lodges itself in her throat. Bus 248 slowly starts to pull away from the curb.

" _Fuck, fuck, fuckiddy fuck!”_

 Heart racing Rey bolts in front of the bus, arms waving about like a crazed animal. The bus driver slams on the breaks, tyres screeching to a halt, and she uses the opportunity to catapult herself through the closing doors. She smacks her elbow against the glass door with a crisp _crunch_ , and narrowly misses being crushed before they slam shut. She breathes out a low grunt between tight teeth, cradling her elbow against her chest. Hobbling forward she yells a breathless ‘ _thank you!_ ’ to the bus driver, who just releases a startled grunt and shakes his bald head.

Shoulders sagging with relief, she quickly rummages through the contents of her coat pocket, keys rattling about, before grasping her Metrocard and giving it a clean swipe. With renewed confidence she slowly starts to make her way to the back of the bus. The engine roars to life forcing her to cling to the nearest pole, her wobbly knees bumping against several rows of seats as she tries to reach the back. Feeling her cheeks burning red, she whispers a sincere _sorry_ to a few disgruntled passengers and furrowed brows, before quickly finding an empty seat. Finally able to rest, she lets her forehead press against the window.

 _Good one Niima... real smooth_.

She huffs a tired sigh and curls into a ball. Burrowing her pink tipped nose into her patched scarf, her fingers curling and twisting around the loose threads at the bottom. Letting herself sit back, she watches the city blur across the drenched glass.

She holds her bottom lip between her teeth and gnaws on the plump flesh, a nervous tick she’s had for as long as she can remember. She watches with bright eyes as the bustling city attempts to run against the chaos. One particular, very _loud_ domestic catches her eye. A disgruntled taxi driver is marching toward an unloading fruit van, hand pointed right in the face of the van driver whose just slipped out the driver’s side, his heels clicking on the pavement. The taxi driver is yelling at the top of his lungs, his hands waving about passionately as he points to the _taxi zone_ sign. Spit flies from his mouth, his eyes bulging, as the van driver attempts to keep to himself and unload some fruit parcels. She catches snippets of their conversation, “You’re in the wrong fucking zo-”, “can’t you rea-”, followed by the van driver’s rushed reply of “delivery” “on time”, “I’ve gotta feed my fam-”, “don’t be such an assho-”.

The bus roars past just as the taxi driver’s nostrils flare, his neck pulling back like a salamander about to attack, mouth opening, “You mother fuc-!”. The wheels slide through a puddle just as the encounter was about to reach its crescendo.

Rey can’t contain the giggle that erupts from her chest, dimples popping out by her chin as she attempts to stifle it in her hand. One of the furrowed brows turns around to look at her with a weary eye. Rey drops her hand away and looks down subconsciously, she knows she probably looks like a drenched rat, she can feel how her mop of hair is spiking up at a weird angle, curls brushing against her forehead. It doesn’t help that her eyelids keep getting stuck together from all the hot air passing through the vents.

Twisting her mouth back and forth, she chooses to take this in her stride and offers the confused man a big toothy smile. His eyes pop out of his head like a goofy cartoon character, wide and taken back. But slowly his mouth relaxes and pulls itself into a small smile. Reaching his aged hand up, he tips his hat to her before turning back to his newspaper.

With a soft smile she slips her earbuds in and starts shuffling through her dented ipod shuffle. She runs the pad of her thumb over the cracked screen a few times, letting it tingle her spine and lull her into a soft haze.

It only takes six more stops before the bus hits midtown Manhattan. Rey exits the bus with a rushed thanks, jogging down the steps and along the street corner. It doesn’t take long until she reaches First Order Electronics, the bold metallic lettering still managing to shine through the grey mist. It wasn’t a particularly large building. But it still managed to effortlessly stand out, it's design more edgy than any of the other buildings on the strip. Not just in the cool meaning of the word, because it was incredibly _cool_ building, but weirdly enough in its architecture as well. Curt, bold corners cut a zig zag design diagonally across the white tile paneling. The angled finish of the glass changing the visual composition of the building depending on where you were standing - kind of like one of those mirage effect cards. You know, the ones with the scratchy surface. If you had one with a picture of a tiger on it and you tipped it back and forth then it would look like its mouth was opening and closing.

Rey wastes a good few minutes distractedly stepping back and forth watching the glass dance with the effect. The distraction helping to soothe her churning stomach.

When she finally pulls out her phone she knows she missed the in-house hand in deadline awhile ago. She can practically feel Rose’s sing song voice tap dancing _“I told ya so”_ against her red tipped ears. Rey pulls up the automated email she received in reply to her inquiry about the internship a few days ago. Scrolling through to the bottom she finds instructions to the out-of-hours drop box.

Sucking some air into her lungs she walks with a pit in her stomach to the back of the building, stopping in front of a red metal drop box.

A laminated piece of paper was sellotaped to the front reading:

 

_F.O.E. Internship Applications._

 

Reaching into the carpet bag hanging off her shoulder she pulls out a lime green folder. Pages upon pages of the best of her life’s work reside between those two flimsy bits of plastic. Diagrams and breakdowns of her all of her design ideas, documents showing the progression of jobs she'd worked at _Roaring Automobiles_ , the best of her essays from her time at NYU so far. It was all in there. Sliding this through the slot will be like sending in a piece of herself. Her soul. Her...dreams.

 

 _What if you’re not good enough?_ A treacherous voice murmurs at her ear. All those dark, all too familiar thoughts suddenly bubble to the surface. Telling her that she’ll never get it, that she’s not good enough. That she has never been good enough...that's why they left you - 

 

**_No_.**

 

That’s not why they left. I am good _enough._

“You can do this.” She whispers to herself.

 And then, before she has time to second guess it, she quickly pulls open the mouth of the box and shoves the folder in.

 The crisp folder slides to the bottom with a thud. And with it, her future.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, let me know what you think if you have the time!
> 
> See you all next time - live long and prosper *does vulcan parting hand sign* x

**Author's Note:**

> Congratulations on completing this novel of a first chapter - you deserve a very heavy and very shiny trophy because that was no small task!
> 
> And before you ask, yes, yes I do happen to have a gold medal in the art of unintelligible rambling. Thank you for noticing, I appreciate it. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope there was at least one or two moments in there you caused you to snort laugh or smile. Feel free to let me know them if you have the time, I'm newish to this kind of thing and honestly don't really know where this is going at this point. So would really appreciate any feedback you have :) 
> 
> Until next time then my chums! 
> 
> *I'll be back* - horrific attempt at arnold schwarzenegger impression. 
> 
> ...I'll show myself out.


End file.
